you go on

It would seem that we are really going to get ourselves in hot water, slowly, gradually as we see now, the tar ball train keep a rollin' accompanied by the ripening, low hanging fruit of manufactured need for all those granite walls around the empire city. Despite the highly technical, scientific blogging common to more than a few who devote their attentions solely to one subject, one does not have to be savvy in occupational linguistics to figure out what's going on. In a recent post, I said something to the effect of becoming educated in the vernacular of expertise in which we'd never held sincere interest. As we are thrust along the yellow brick road to Armageddon, we find everything connected, too often with the same performers in the poppy field advertising trust.

Line of the times: You can sell yourself to yourself any way you want, but I know, everybody knows.
Author unknown or I'd be delighted to credit him/her.

I am only putting in an appearance here because its due. I take no official position, other than time will tell. Perhaps the ultimate denial, but more to the point, surviving in the only way actually possible, being past the noise by now, I accept it and I don't accept it. There is a familiar weight to it, that sort of passionate heartache that you might have experienced as a teenager in your greatest romance, some ubiquitous loss from which there would be no recovery, just a dull, glazed understanding you had to go on because you had no other rational choice.

If you don't go on, you keep it alive. You feed it. That behavior prevents you from seeing the truth of your situation, which is all one sided once its over. It is only you that is involved, the patient is gone, you are manning life support in the hospice praying for a Zombie kind of love. I am not saying anything none of us have not already realized. For the novice, let me just say out front, I am troubled and I care. The other side of the coin says the Apocalypse is on schedule and anything could happen anywhere. Therefore, make hay while the sun shines with the full realization that whatever it is that prevents you from doing so is an electronic device plugged into your homelife voluntarily and billed monthly at nothing due since it was already trawled from your bank account. Hopefully, you had enough to cover it. If you did not, Horrors! Heh, they've really got the world shivering in its combat boots. The question looms, what are they gonna do now? Dine on tar balls at Signatures?

Here is where I take a huge leap away from many popular writers by estimating the particular phase we are in as a reincarnation of a pattern never broken since violent and healthy oceans slammed into the rocks and lava spewed over the earth. On the Living Planet everything grows, appears to die and grow again in another form, some growth taking far longer than others and only appears to our superpower 2010 A.D. junk food eyes, permanent. Our permanent is less that a nanosecond. Static is an idea of the zeitgeist. The GoM problem is 9 eleven multiplied by nine years of surgical advancement which in retrospect we should have seen coming as the arrows were highlighting all the usual signs and omens. Many did, but were silenced as being deranged and/or wicked heretics, a common thread throughout history.

We have to expect (expectation being a delusion, but occasionally necessary to know where you are going) this problem will be handled in the long term as every other problem has been handled previously (not handled). The people most effected supply never ending, imaginative jury rigs to combat their disasters, but its only busy work fending off despair which is the normal response to having no control at all. I recall the day I came to that conclusion, it was during a period when it came to our attention nothing concrete was done to solve identity theft. The grand legal solution was a requirement one be notified by faded form letter your identity had been stolen. That was it, in full. No regret, no recourse. Afterwards, we saw the same problem solving technique applied to the full spectrum of systemic failure, further study showed this "after the fact" and off-topic method to be THE engineered design absolving responsibility built into all corrective reform. In other words, they are not interested in cleaning up corruption because they are corrupt.

While I have often said "We are on our own", still the fantasy persists somehow someone will take care of our crises. In fantasyland, the story always has a happy ending. The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow, every cloud has a silver lining and everything will be all right. You can even go so far as to apply spiritual truths to these disasters reinterpreting original intent to suit your desires while waiting for someone else to solve any one particular problem area in which you are personally effected. With time you adjust. You go on. Oh you have thoughts about it, opinions, you notice the room got a little smaller, another musical chair missing, but the grinding noise only gets louder. It sounds exactly like blowing an engine. "Thump thump thump, whine." It looks like a mine pony heaving in collapse from the weight of the coal cart. The day finally came he could no longer go on. All utility was drained from the pitiful thing... Now there, dry your tears, his parts on the conveyor as we speak, pulverized into dog food and later, fertilizer for curb weeds.

It is true a population reduction is in order. But to enact authentic reform on population is a scarlet area the fundies and parties are loathe to address realistically. We'll have to handle that one too. The manner in which it is currently addressed is equally as absurd as any recent reform, after the fact and off-topic. The real work is always behind the scenes, sneaky, you are not supposed to put two and two together as doing so is bad for business which reflects poorly on growth. This is a huge contradiction of course, with so much of industry focused purely on profit from sex. The supreme contradiction being we exist on the Living Planet, recycling and reproducing alongside industrial agriculture, some percentage of souls in the humus pile today, some newly sprouting, some unfurling leaves into maturity, our growth is inevitable. All of it beyond human control. Visible is right when he says every two thousand years or so the whole place goes to hell and starts over:

... Every two thousand years or so things get really out of balance and the divine takes a human form to demonstrate how it should be and to explain why people suffer and to show the way. The visit is so impressive that for a little while the whole world knows that there is a single controlling force. Still, after about a hundred years, the memory fades and fellowships are formed to carry the truth in symbols and rituals. A little while later religions emerge and over time it becomes a business enterprise and finally you get to where we are today where they are having sex with children or prostitutes in defiance of the teachings which have to do with suppressing the sexual force. ...

It is an ego construct to think that the crisis we face has any possibility of resolution. How pray tell do you resolve an exploding sea floor? Calving glaciers? And all they can think of is shirking blame with temporary concealments, shifting ones and zeros and shoveling charts around as proof of some magical, meaningless victories that when you watch prove themselves to exacerbate the train of damage.

This leaves us weak and vulnerable. All the little temples of cards are flattening under the typhoon of one sided growth which is not growth at all, its an advertisement designed to inflate the bully empire as it emasculates everyone and everything in its parade of the righteous. There is no difference between drone wars and taking out economies, both are a single, crippling strategy of shock and awe, a taunting in the face of their progress charts, a horribly destructive dare inviting, encouraging defiance in which no one wins or gains anything of worth. Take care, when you watch a tragedy in action, it is very easy to become another tragedy.

To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
Macbeth Act 5, scene 5, 19–28